𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽,

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳-𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆...

"Why don't you tell me about that night?"

A small smile crept onto your face. You leaned forward, resting your forearms on your thighs.

"It was good," You nodded your head slowly. "I think some of the heroes were a bit blind-sighted at first. Most of Hiroto's gang relies on guns, not their quirks."

"I take it you were not," Your therapist remarked, becoming somewhat cocky on your behalf.

"Course not," You shrugged confidently. "But they got the hang of it quick. We arrested most of them, Hiroto will be on trial soon." Your therapist raised an eyebrow.

"You seem to regard the heroes more highly than before," She observed curiously. "What changed?" You shook your head

"No, nothing's changed," You asserted, looking her in the eye. "I still hate most of them and most of them still hate me. But... " You let a sigh pass through your lips, "there's one I like." She chuckled lightly.

"Can I take a guess?" She wondered aloud.

"No," You smiled at her. You had not realized how odd it was to be so comfortable with her. It seemed six months of consistent discussion and vulnerability would do that to someone. Life changes gradually, and apparently, sometimes you fail to notice.

"I guess that," You paused, unsure quite how to word it. "I guess that everything just feels different now. Weird." She looked at you with interest.

"Perhaps it feels weird because you've ever experienced stability before," She suggested somewhat coyly. "I think that it's wonderful. You've made incredible progress over the last six months." 

"Yeah, maybe." You watched as she wrote something down inside a manila folder. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall of her office. Your session was almost over. Your last session was almost over. You had fulfilled the court orders and in a few minutes, your rehabilitation will be over. Given, the smallest slip-up and you would spend the rest of your life in prison. Plus, you were an internationally recognized flight-risk, but technically a free citizen.

"Why don't you come see me next week?" Your therapist spoke up. "You have no legal obligation, but I'd be willing to take you on as a regular patient." You looked up at her. Therapy of your own free will?

"I, uh... I don't have a job or anything," You reminded her.

"That's something we can work on," She pointed out. "It's entirely your choice, though." You took a moment to consider the offer. You... trusted her. And heaven knows you need the help. You nodded.

"Okay, yeah," You stood up, taking a somewhat shaky breath. "Then I'll see you next week." She stood also, a content smile on her face. She picked up the bland folder resting on her desk and handed it to you.

"Here are your papers," She explained. "Your probation officer will need to sign them too and he can log them away to officialize your rehabilitation." You smiled gratefully.

"Thank you," You told her genuinely. "For everything."

You stepped out onto the streets with a deep breath. You took out your phone and texted your probation officer for his current location. He was relatively quick to respond, which was surprising. The track to UA was a bit of a distance, but you had nothing better to do.

The high concrete walls surrounding the campus were daunting. The tall glass windows and walls of the oddly shaped building before you reached towards the sky. You always hesitated to press on, to break through the threshold of the campus. Something along the lines of reliving bad memories.

Your shoes clicked on the reflective floors of the hallways you walked down. You still remembered where everything was, though much has changed since you were a teenager. Those traumatic memories were not the only thing creating a disturbing pit in your stomach.

You had not forgotten about your real mission--the real reason you were at the campus to begin with. And it was not for Shota to sign your release forms. Though, that probably had to come first.

"I'm honestly surprised I made it this far," You remarked as Shota found the dotted line at the bottom of the first piece of paper. "You guys are such a pain to put up with." Shota let out a bitter chuckle.

"You say that like you aren't," He easily fired back. He flipped through the pages of your therapist's copious notes, which covered everything from your behavioral patterns to recaps of your sessions to diagnoses. Shota tried his best not to read anything too personal, just sign where he needed to.

"Have you given any further thought to what you're going to do now?" Shota wondered aloud, closing the manila folder. You shrugged your shoulders.

"Not really," You admitted honestly. "I don't exactly have as many options."

"You could go back to school, find something you like," Shota suggested casually. "You could even get your hero license." You laughed at the mental image. Though, you did not write the idea off.

"I know one thing I wanna do, though," You told him. He looked at you curiously. You peered around the room in an attempt to notice any glaring privacy violations. You leaned closer to the man standing in front of you.

"I'm going to find whoever the hell told The League of Villains where your training camp was." Your voice was stern, a tone Shota had not heard you use before. There was venom lacing your words, clear hatred on your tongue. You folded your arms over your chest.

"I'm going to find that traitor. They're the reason Katsuki was in danger," You said harshly. But your serious demeanor shifted slightly, to one more akin to sentiment.

"And I want to do it with you," You told Shota with certainty in your voice. "Katsuki told me everything you've done for him--for all those kids. I know you're the only one here I can trust." You let your arms fall to your sides. It was difficult to ask for help, but you knew you needed it. You also knew that Shota was one of the only people you wanted it from.

You held your hand out.

"Partners?" A small smirk made its way onto his tired face. Shota took your hand, shaking it firmly.

"Partners."

You had high hopes, you could admit that much. But in your defense, life has never been better. There were people in your life who you trusted, you had a therapist, you were going to get a job, you were going to get your own place--you were rehabilitated.

After almost ten years of hiding in the depths of the criminal underworld, you could, at last, bask in the sunlight. It was over. You were not the hit-women, the gun for hire, or the criminal back-up you once were. It was finally over.

You were free.

And holy fuck did that feel indescribably relieving. Yes, there were challenges on the path ahead of you, but it was worth it to feel that feeling. And to think, it all started because a hot-headed, blond, hero-wannabe managed to resurface your deeply buried heart. 

You owed him everything. Fuck it, you loved him. You loved that kid like he was your own. You would do anything to keep him safe, which was exactly why you were going to find the UA traitor. It was only a matter of time. If only they knew they had nowhere left to run.

You tucked your hands into your pockets. Somewhat startled, you felt something inside your pocket. You grabbed it and pulled a small crumpled-up piece of paper. You unfolded it to find a series of numbers poorly scrawled out in ink. It took you a moment to remember.

It was Shigaraki's contact information, the number he gave you in case you ever changed your mind about the "hero" life. Your first instinct was to throw it away, burn it, and never look back.

But... maybe it could be useful one day. You decided to hold on to the number. Just in case...

𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳...